


maybe love (what we hold)

by moonji



Series: More Than What We Are [2]
Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt, M/M, Reconciliation, best friendship (a kiss is all it takes), gorl i made a sequel sort of, i'm not bouta break ur heart, it's gonna be a series, it's kinda cute don't worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonji/pseuds/moonji
Summary: Mark and Donghyuck.Donghyuck and Mark.A year after — sort of.or alternatively: i finally made a follow up of what happened after best friendship (a kiss is all it takes).
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: More Than What We Are [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786513
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	maybe love (what we hold)

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS. I WROTE IT?!?!?!? AND I'M SO FREAKING EXCITED TO SHARE IT TO Y'ALL LIKE YESSSSSSSSSSSS.
> 
> This ain't complete still BUT the idea's there — BLATANTLYYTY. LOL. Anyway, I hope you like it? Like after a few months of feeling heartbroken about what happened with the last stories, I'VE DECIDED TO STEP UP.
> 
> Here u gooooo??
> 
> ALSO, as per usual, this is not beta tested. I hope you see past my mistakes and enjoyyyyyy!!!! :))))

"Hey," Mark says, laptop tucked between his side and the inner part of his arm, abruptly stopping just as he was about to step out of his and Donghyuck's shared room, his neck twisted to take the tiniest glimpse at the latter. "I'm going out for a while. I may or may not come back later," he finishes, slipping away to the unknown, and the coldness in his voice tickles Donghyuck's chest atrociously.  
  
"Sure." The word that leaves Donghyuck's mouth feels dry, and it hangs in the air even as the minutes pass -- stale, devoid of any positivity and goodness. And he stays there seated upright on his bed, his back against the headboard, laptop on his thighs, hands unmoving atop the keyboard, wondering if he'd made the right choice.  
  
For a moment he snaps out of it, but the thoughts come biting back -- all the memories, and all the hurt that had come embedded to them -- stronger with each second that slipped away from Donghyuck's hands, whipping their ugly chains while they continuously put him in a chokehold. And it feels like day one all over again -- as it's always been.  
  
Donghyuck heaves a breath, his heart beginning to thump an ugly irregular rhythm, his chest twitching as though it had been poked by a thousand needles, gasping in desperation for dear relief. He feels as if he's going to convulse, expanding again and again until he couldn't stretch enough. And he shakes in place, vision starting to blur and the screen in front of him starting to bleed in on itself.  
  
He cries then, horrible sobs raking his body to a display of pure sadness, a shaking of physical attributes and emotional stability. It feels absolutely hideous, the way he'd uncomfortably bent over to hug his knees, only to have his chest poked by the unclosed screen of his laptop, the way he's alone, crying in bed for the decisions that he'd made months ago.  
  
_It's pathetic. I'm pathetic,_ Donghyuck thinks over and over again, settling to instead slip down until he's fully laid on his back, tears continuously pouring down the sides of his face. By then he's tempted to ask the world where he'd gone wrong -- where he'd made the stupidest decision and why the things that are happening now are happening to him -- but he stops short, the memory still clear in his head, still playing on loop even with one year's passing.  
  
It still sits there, the scene repeatedly playing as Donghyuck continues to ignore it's existence, as he tries his best to never slip in to that part of his mind. Sometimes he thinks he's doing good, sometimes he believes that he is -- that he's moving forward, putting everything past him, _past them._ But moments like these only prove how he's lied too much to himself. How he's delusional to think for a second that just because he isn't crying every single day, he doesn't long for the other anymore. _It's so fucking stupid,_ he thinks, chest heaving up and down as he breathes painfully through his cries.  
  
"I'm sorry," Donghyuck cries out, hands reaching up to cover his eyes as if anyone would see him, ashamed of himself -- of everything that he's done. Because he was and still is, and time could only do so much to numb him from such feelings. The small amount of time that had passed pales to the enormity of his guilt which only continues to grow as the days flow by, a never-ending flow of emotions powering it's progression.  
  
It's been how it's been for the past year, and it will most possibly be the same moving forward. Because matter how much Donghyuck tried convinced himself that everything would be alright -- that in the future they would be okay -- the opposing thoughts that diligently pushed through, fought back, overpowered him. The blacks that swirled inside him continued to claw harder, swiped stronger, crippling and ravishing whatever remained of his confidence.  
  
Now it's this, him constantly wallowing in, and his mind amplifying, the negative emotions that enveloped his being, constantly feeling as though his world is spinning nauseatingly below him, tides shifting, crying to himself whenever Mark talked coldly or left him. And to Donghyuck, it doesn't matter whether such emotions kept reducing him; it matters not if he's tired or still have the energy to battle his demons. He deserves it, he thinks, for everything that he's done and felt. He was selfish -- he still is.  
  
If such emotions are the punishment for all he'd put the people in his life to, he'd take it. He'd swallow the pain and bask in scalding guilt and shame as long as the other doesn't suffer. He'd take it, drink it up until he's gasping for his breath, forever if he has to. Donghyuck would go without any complaints just to have Mark beside him, even with the condition of staying farther away than he did. Even if he couldn't touch him or talk to him, it's worth the pain Donghyuck needs to endure.  
  
[ ⏮️ × ▶️ × (⏭️) ]  
  
Donghyuck closes his eyes, letting the quiet wash over him, reposing from all the things that have occured during the day, the buzzing in his mind still there but noticably less. By now the sun had long set, and dark blues have painted the sky a majestic dark tone, speckled with tiny twinkling stars that have been muted by the city's hustle and bustle.  
  
It's still beautiful, Donghyuck's mind supplies amidst the fog that filled it. When he opens his eyes again, he comes faced with the frozen meal he'd heated up to eat, the meat staring at him, unmoving, and he wonders if he's anything like it; dead, a little less than alive. But before he could dwell on it even further and trigger another onslaught of tears, he stops, poking the meat and bringing some up to chew on.  
  
Sitting there, on table where he and Mark shared various mornings together eating, laughing, joking around, there's a certain emptiness inside of him that Donghyuck finds irking -- mostly sad and painful, but irking in a way. Not because of Mark, never because of him, but because of himself, and Donghyuck wonders if things could have gone differently.  
  
The past year hasn't been the same as the last. When Donghyuck made the decision to leave, his world started breaking and shifting below his very feet, threatening to gobble him whole and all the things that he know to be a fact. He only wanted to get away, but in a blink of an eye, the situation spiraled into something he didn't want but embraced as the months passed.  
  
"This sucks," Donghyuck says to himself more than anyone, settling to just move his food around his plate, no intention of really eating anything, just mindless consumption of things that keep him alive to suffer another day. It's pathetic, Donghyuck knows, how he's there alone while his ex-best friend's out to who knows where, how he's waiting for Mark to come back when he clearly has no plans to.  
  
After minutes of battling against himself, Donghyuck pushes himself off the chair, actions automatic as if he'd been trained to move soullessly around, just waiting until a part of him shuts down. He mostly does the aftercare without anything else in mind, but a soft knocking on the main door almost takes his breath away.  
  
For a brief moment, he wonders if it's Mark coming home, bringing with him something like he used to, but then he relapses back to reality and the smile that graced his lips drop back to the thin line they've been accustomed to revert back to for the past months. Donghyuck turns back, his heart heavy and the will to converse with anybody faltering even more, his intentions to fully ignore the person on the other side.  
  
"Hyuck? Are you there? It's me, Jaemin." The muffled voice spreads through the emptiness of the room, gentle and soft, slipping with ease through Donghyuck's ears as he tucked his plate away. He argues whether or not he should entertain Jaemin, a part of him unsure if he could handle conversing with the other man for more than a minute.  
  
Deciding otherwise, Donghyuck strides to the door, opening it after he breathed a deep inhale. On the other side is Jaemin, bundled up in a puffy-looking salmon-colored sweater, a soft look on his face with lips ever-so-slightly stretched. "Hi, there," he greets, and Donghyuck steps away to let Jaemin in, the littlest of change on the latter's face an invitation Jaemin took immediately.  
  
"Hi, Jaem. What brings you here?" They walk towards the couch on the left side of the room, now placed parallel to the television the two tenants barely use. Donghyuck tries his best to present a nonchalant persona in front of Jaemin, but the way his voice seemed to crack at the second statement makes him wince. And if Jaemin noticed the difference, Donghyuck thanks him silently for not bringing it up.  
  
When they are seated down, Donghyuck doesn't really know or think of what would happen. There's a silence between them that borders between comfort and scrutiny, and he only lets Jaemin's eyes bear on him as he continues to avert his eyes, afraid of what he'd see in the brown orbs that had seen him cripple with time.  
  
"You've gotten so skinny, Hyuck." His insides churn at the words that leave Jaemin's lips, his skin burning when the other brings a hand to touch his thinned forearms, fingers grazing the expanse of skin as if an old artifact that would break under moderate pressure. Donghyuck feels uncomfortable, but he doesn't scoot away, knowing full well that Jaemin told the truth. He, stuck in his own body, watched himself slip away, after all.  
  
It's the concerned tilt of Jaemin's features that greet him when he finally looks back, the slight downturn of his eyes and the emotions that danced around his irises a comforting display of sort in Donghyuck's mind. And he smiles, a tad happy that someone at least cares. "I'm still fine, Jaem. Struggling, but fine," Donghyuck assures, hand going to rest on the other's, his voice strained, a little weak.  
  
Jaemin and the squad had observed how his and Mark's friendship dwindled to nothingness through the months that had passed. They comforted Donghyuck when he needed them to, picked him up whenever he fell repeatedly to the darkest of places, and listened to him; for that, he is greatly thankful. But most importantly, he's proud that amidst everything that came with the destruction of his most essential connection, they didn't up and leave him and Mark for the other.  
  
"Please take care of yourself, Hyuck." Jaemin's hand caresses Donghyuck's skin, the soothing action reverberating comfort inside the latter. "It hurts me and the guys to see you like this." Donghyuck bites his lower lip, his chest heaving up and down as an all-too-familiar warmth creeps up to his eyes, a little stingy but bearable. Then he leans in, close enough to Jaemin that he could snuggly rest his head on the crook of the other's neck.  
  
"There's this music video I watched the other night, Jaem. It was for Lily Allen's Somewhere Only We Know." Donghyuck rambles, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of someone pressed so intimately against him, his mind drifting off to Mark and his beautiful smile. He knows full well that what he's saying doesn't makes sense, and he could only pray for Jaemin to not mind how off-topic his reply was.  
  
Thankfully, Jaemin hums in response, pulling Donghyuck closer to him and leaning back so they could snuggle comfortably on the relatively large couch. He brings his hand to cricle on Donghyuck's waist, very lightly cradling the latter. The moment Jaemin's warmth consumed him, Donghyuck loses his train of thought. Instead, he settles on resting his head on the other's chest. "Thank you for constantly making it feel worth it, Jaem."  
  
Donghyuck stays silent then, just soaking in the contact and silence that hugged him and Jaemin nicely, slowly slipping away from consciousness as the seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours. And if his question went unanswered, he didn't mind.  
  
[ (⏮️) × ▶️ × ⏭️ ]  
  
Donghyuck doesn't fully realize the implications of his actions, and the worst possible scenario continues to tug on his brain as his heart palpitates in an alarmingly fast pace. The moment he went out of the apartment, he knew he should've stayed at least a few more minutes to attempt and rectify the situation. But he couldn't simply stand there and stutter. He couldn't possibly stay when everything has gotten too much.  
  
Donghyuck is embarrassed, and the feelings of shame and disgust that had pit on his stomach continued to chew on his insides, burning like his tears that doesn't seem to want to stop flowing. It feels as though the world below his feet is cracking, breaking as he runs away, phone and wallet in hand, in search for anywhere to go.  
  
It would have been fine if he hadn't divulged his feelings, if he had stayed quiet and didn't selfishly complain about his status in Mark's life. But he did, and everything is going down south. Donghyuck struggles to imagine how he'd go from there, how he could possibly return to Mark without completely crushing any chance of redemption. _Would he still accept me if I come back? With all I said? With all I put him through?_ Donghyuck thinks he wouldn't.  
  
Truthfully, Donghyuck's mind is nothing but a blur, a series of passing images and muffled words playing both softly and chaotically while his surroundings shifted from one area to another. He doesn't quite know where he should go but he runs, faster and faster until his legs eventually ached for rest.  
  
It feels suffocating, as if hands were pressed against Donghyuck's chest, pushing, applying great pressure while he cries for his breath and life. And in the sea of moving people, the urge to hug and shield himself away only grows stronger, more prevalent as seconds tick by while his heart continues to shatter inside his chest.  
  
The moment he stops running, he heaves, crying even harder than before, sinking on the ground and hugging his knees for comfort. It only keeps pouring out of him, regret, shame, a sense of doom, and the linger taste of a bittersweet ending, and the fight to calm himself down feels rather daunting. But he does, and when he did, the night is deeper, stretching closer to midnight, by then the people on the streets have become far and few.  
  
Donghyuck, lost and confused, takes a moment to breathe and wipe himself up. A few moments of pondering, standing there in the middle of a park turns to minutes observing the glowing lights that lit the place up before he truly moves with purpose. He grabs his phone from his pant pocket, only to see it had been drained of its power. So he slides it back in, mind empty yet filled with concern.  
  
He thinks of what he should do, multiple options running past his mind, the worst flashing longer than what made sense. Then he remembers his mother -- a feel of genuine comfort, of acceptance -- and makes up his mind.  
  
[ ⏮️ × (▶️) × ⏭️ ]  
  
Donghyuck walks through the amply lit hallways, actions powered by memory and done in automation. He barely notices anyone, his eyes trained on nothing but the path before him, never wandering, still and never shifting. It's been so the past few months -- like a robot, a mindless soul, a broken record. And while a small part of Donghyuck wants to, he doesn't really care anymore.  
  
Third year in university and Donghyuck never really though of the possibility of his circumstance now ever happening. It was supposed to be him and Mark, Mark and him, until they finish their degree. Even with farewell from the academic aspect of life, he thought it would still be the two of them -- fighting battles, side by side and whoever they would choose to be their other half. Not this. Never this.  
  
He hadn't thought of the tiny seed Mark had planted inside his chest to something so familiar to love. Donghyuck had never envisioned being strangled by the secrecy and gravity of the feelings he harbor for Mark, much less this. He doesn't want anything of it -- the living together without so much as a relationship that resembled the one that they had, the constant constriction in his chest, the permanent warmth in his eyes, the loneliness that always seemed to touch him so intimately.  
  
Years in on his and Mark's friendship and like fraying fabric, the threads that have tangled their lives in unification had worn off, torn apart by his unsolicited yearning, diverging to different paths. They've become strangers from being so close. From familiarity, they've been reduced to being mere tenants of the same apartment, sharing the same room, but never what the heart holds. Donghyuck couldn't blame it on Mark, not on anybody but himself. The root was him, after all.  
  
Turning to the direction on his right, where the hall of his evening lecture is, he hears a familiar laughter echo from his left, the light, airy sound stopping him from his tracks. And Donghyuck's heartbeat immediately spikes from normalcy, a warmth spreading on his chest like comfortable summer afternoons. _Mark,_ his mind supplies as he turns on his feet, _it's Mark's laughter._  
  
When he fully spins, he sees the man he loves along on the other side, a look of enthusiasm on his face as he's seemingly joking around with a woman Donghyuck doesn't recognize who. And although his chest ached ever so slightly at the sight, the hurt immediately vanished to obscurity when another set of laughter bubbles out of the man's lips, beautifully shaping his features to that of happiness -- something he hadn't seen for a long time.  
  
Donghyuck stands there, an emotion indistinguishable to happiness and content swimming in his chest, heart fluttering as the sound caresses his very being. It feels like home, a certain comfort to his muddled mind. When Donghyuck closes his eyes, it's as though he'd came back to the days when everything was alright -- when everything was perfect.  
  
An image flashes in his mind, a particular sting in his eyes as he tries to control his breathing. It was of him and Mark, the younger them, on the bed, huddled together after a game of hide-and-seek, tiredness creeping in on their bones as the summer afternoon slowly faded to vibrant oranges. Then he remembers how it felt to be close to Mark; to hug him and to be embraced by him, how he smiled so beautifully, how he used to talk to him.  
  
There's a hitch on Donghyuck's breathing, and before he knows it, he's spinning away and running, a shift in emotions, a change of sentiments. He runs and runs, dashing past the lecture hall and entering the nearest comfort room, a prevalent feeling of choking on his throat. He avoids staring at the reflection that has haunted him and his dreams, his features that he began hating as time went by and the tears that always seemed to stain them. But he couldn't, and his eyes are drawn to his somewhat sunken features, the noticeable bags under his eyes, the transparent salty liquid that stretched until his chin.  
  
Once again, he wonders how he'd go from there, how he'd ever move past the guilt of pushing Mark away -- of tearing the very thing that made him feel whole. But, just like every time he'd ever thought of it, he couldn't seem to get the right answer, or any at all. So he cries again. He lets his tears fall and his whimpers out until he feels sore all over, until his tears dry on his face and his throat is hoarse. Then he fixes himself just enough to look presentable for his next class.  
  
[ (⏮️) × ▶️ × ⏭️ ]  
  
Donghyuck looks outside his window, the faint light of the approaching dawn from outside filtering in nicely and giving the room a soft ethereal glow, and he wonders how Mark's doing as he tries to pull himself to sleep, hugging his knees to warm himself from the cold slapping of reality. It's been a few hours since he'd arrived to his hometown, and fewer hours since he'd stopped crying and started going numb -- something he doesn't know whether he should be thankful or not.  
  
However, it's the least of his worries, Donghyuck realizes when his mind finally drifted to some topic other than that of Mark. He had taken the train back home without so much as a second thought when he had remembered of his mother. All he wanted to do was get away and halt everything bad that had transpired, but he'd never contemplated the reasons he should give his family as to why he had came home knocking, crying uncontrollably for a couple of hours in his parents arms, not even sparing them a word, before retreating to his room and locking himself up.  
  
But despite the growing concern, he's rather grateful of his parents not really prying, thankful that they chose to let him do as he pleased when he wasn't as composed as he is now. Then again, his mind drifts back to the inevitable talk they'd likely have the morning after, and he finds it difficult to be telling them he'd fallen in-love with his childhood best friend; that somewhere along the way, Mark had become a man in his eyes, not merely a brother, not his parents' second son.  
  
How does he tell them that, in his eyes, Mark had become a man he wants to spend his waking moments with, tangled under the sheets as sunrays caress their skin? How should he divulge his want to spend nights with Mark, dining in their private little space, dancing to slow music? It's mental, Donghyuck's mind supplies, a sick acidic feeling gracing his throat, a tingle in his stomach that he wanted to hurl out.  
  
"I fucked up big time." He tries to curl in on himself further, head starting to burn a hot red. But just as he'd start rocking back and forth in dear search of temporary release from pain, a series of knocks echoes in the otherwise silent room. He doesn't even have the chance to react before the door slowly opens, creaking sound soft against cold air.  
  
Donghyuck sinks, dropping his head in an attempt to avoid the inevitable, his chest thumping louder as his bed dipped on one side. For a moment he expects his mother or father to leave, entering to just quickly check on him, but the warm fingers that carefully card through his hair tells him otherwise.  
  
"You know you can tell us your problems, darling. That's what we're here for." His mother's words hang in the air, quite heavy and pressing against his back, and in just mere seconds, Donghyuck's heaving for his breath again, body shaking as tears begin to cascade down his eyes. Amidst his sobs, his mother envelops him in a hug which Donghyuck leans heavily on.  
  
The hand that carded through his hair turned to patting his back as she hummed gently near his ear, a lullaby Donghyuck recognized to be one she used to sing during his bed time. He flashes back to the simplicity of childhood and bawls harder. "Mom," Donghyuck cries out, throwing his hands to return the embrace, baring himself to the open. Days used to be for burning, just passing time as he looked forward to growing up, ready to trudge through the rocky path of life. But now, it doesn't seem all that appealing -- he doesn't even feel all that ready. And if he could go back, he would. But he can't. He's stuck in a world where Mark and him didn't make it to the end.  
  
"I'm in love with Mark." And as the morning rises to the softest blues, Donghyuck bares his heart and soul -- his broken self, the love he couldn't seem to grasp.  
  
[ ⏮️ × (▶️) × ⏭️ ]  
  
Changes can be both drastic and subtle, a fact Donghyuck had begrudgingly accepted as the seconds passed by lethargically. He'd come to bear with the loneliness that came with separation and distance, the cold slapping of wanting, and the hotness of sweet rejection.  
  
He'd been lucky when he decided to come back after he up-and-left everything, including disregarding his academic obligations as a second-year university student. Donghyuck didn't intend for it to take too long, however, but it happened -- he knew he couldn't return to Mark with still such strong emotions roiling deep in his veins.  
  
Days of quietly trying to heal turned to weeks of craving affection from the man he loves. Then weeks of wanting became months of slowly going numb from constantly having to relive his nightmare through corrupted dreams. The minutes passed far too fast, and each day -- instead of getting better -- Donghyuck devastatingly became the pained person that he stands now.  
  
When he had, eventually, decided to return -- albeit dubious -- during their supposed academic year break, the university was kind enough to give him remedial classes and examinations to at least pass and proceed to the next higher-level education. And Donghyuck, knowing how much consideration and leniency had been bestowed upon him, studied as diligently to match his instructors' efforts and level of understanding.  
  
Despite how hard it was to watch and interact with the crumbled pieces of his past, he managed to survive -- emotionally and mentally. But the hope of rekindling with Mark he carried throughout the process of regaining his spot on officialy students' roster had been fruitless.  
  
He'd quickly learned how Mark made arrangements to his schedule when he learned Donghyuck likened his own to the former's. And since Jaemin had dropped his degree in favor of pursuing another right before the new academic year started, Donghyuck was left his own devices. And it hurt to know how Mark didn't seem to care -- it hurt although he was the first one to leave.  
  
[ (⏮️) × ▶️ × ⏭️ ]  
  
Donghyuck's hands are shaking violently and his body has been burning ever since he'd arrived from the bus stop. He can feel the plastic handle of the little suitcase he'd brought back burn against his palm but he chooses to disregard it, wiping his free hand free of some prickly sweat that had had accumulated on it.  
  
With his shaking hand, he brings himself to knock on the familiar wooden door to his and Mark's apartment, force a little too soft to be distinguished. He hesitates, but goes to knock again. It doesn't even take a minute before the door is flung open, and Donghyuck's chest is heaving for breath. "Mark," the name automatically slips past his lips despite his throat seeming as if it had been lodged with something akin to a lump.  
  
Before him stands Mark, as devastatingly beautiful as he had been, a little different from how he'd last seen him -- looking a little worn out, yet all the same as the Mark he'd grown to love. The other stares, his lips parting ever so slightly. "Hyuck," he lets out, and time seemed to still at the way his voice cradled the air.  
  
Donghyuck breathes, a little eager, somewhat deprived, his eyes warming dangerously and his mouth drying as though he'd been severely parched. "I don't love you anymore." It hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere changing quicker than how Donghyuck had ran out of the apartment months ago. On the other side, Mark goes somewhat rigid, his arms falling limp on his sides, the confusing look on his face morphing to that of being perplexed.  
  
"Oh." Mark isn't looking at him anymore, and Donghyuck wonders if he'd said the wrong thing. _It was the right thing to say, wasn't it? Mark doesn't want me like that. But why --_ he whispers inside his head, but the thought doesn't even flourish to completion before Mark is making his way inside, movements stiff and rough.  
  
"Mark?" Donghyuck bites back his questions, and the tears staring to form in his eyes, and makes a move to go in before relenting, unsure if Mark even wants him back after everything he's done. His insides churn uncomfortably when Mark stops mid-way to the stairs, the ugly black monster he'd fostered rearing its hideous face in uncertainty.   
  
It takes Mark several moments to reply, silence simmering to a hurtful hotness on Donghyuck's ear. "You don't like me anymore, right?" he asks, apprehension in his tone, and Donghyuck bites his lips to stave off the truth from surfacing, clenching his free hand in prayer that he could say his next words without breaking apart.  
  
"I don't -- I don't love you anymore, Mark."  
  
Mark sighs, sharp, somewhat harshly, before a little strangled chuckle bubbles up his throat, starkly contrasting the poise of his stance. "Then let's forget about the past months ever happening and return to normal."  
  
Mark's words were a lie, and Donghyuck knew it. He felt alarm circulate through his body like wildfire, burning his insides with passionate ripples of heat. But despite the overwhelming urge to run up to Mark, embrace him, confess everything he is to him, and kiss him, Donghyuck chose to say, "Okay."  
  
[ ⏮️ × (▶️) × ⏭️ ]  
  
Donghyuck sighs, downing the blissfully warm heat emanated by the lightly steaming coffee on his hands, his hand reddening as blood rushes through his skin. It had been hard trying to live with Mark as though nothing happened; it's been specially hard knowing full well that Mark, whether he admits it or not, is still affected by what had transpired back then.  
  
They still slept in the same room, beds closely placed next to each other with only a bedside table hindering cessation of space, but that's about it; everything that they've done during the past, and every practice they had then, seemingly ceased to be repeated. It's rather painful, and sets Donghyuck's heart to an abhorrent black every time he thinks about it, but it's something that he couldn't change -- he supposes.  
  
He's weak, and his inhibitions get the best of him whenever he thinks of acting on it. Each moment where he thinks of doing something to aleviate their situation, he freezes up on his spot, words spilling from his mind but never his lips. Then Mark leaves, without so much as a sliver of regard to the way Donghyuck is pulling himself together. And Donghyuck cries, again and again -- all the time. It became a cycle he couldn't get past.  
  
"Hyuck!" a familiar voice snaps Donghyuck back to reality, and his eyes flit around the café to see Renjun by the register waving at him. He smiles back and waves a hand, patiently waiting for the former to finish his order and walk to him.  
  
"Hi, Jun. Just finished your evening classes too?" Donghyuck glances at the clock by the far end of the café -- _seven:thirty-five --_ a curious smile tugging his lips up. Renjun nods at him, sipping on his straw. "Yeah. Professor's been holding us longer these days, I guess because finals are nearing," he affirms. To that, Donghyuck nods, drinking from his cup.  
  
"Well, how about you? Today's a Wednesday, right? Shouldn't your last lecture end at six?" Renjun probably didn't mean for it to sound as if he's asking about _that,_ but Donghyuck's breath still hitches either way, the unsaid, underlying question skirting his mind.  
  
He shrugs, cover his features with a mask of nonchalance. "I needed to take a breather, if you know what I mean," he releases a strangled breath, "It gets tiring sometimes." Then he sips and tries to focus his attention on how the now lukewarm, relatively creamy liquid slide down his throat and not on Renjun's knitting eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, Hyuck." There's a pause that follows Renjun's reaction, swirling around them like the softest tornado, and the empathetic sigh that leave's Renjun's mouth offers him the slightest bit of comfort. "I'm sure everything will come around." Donghyuck only smiles.  
  
They talk about university, Renjun and Jeno, and how Donghyuck has been these days as they let the time pass, skirting around the topics related to Mark but never really divulging much. It's not when the café rings their bells to advert to their closing that they move to flee.  
  
Renjun offers to walk Donghyuck home which he agrees to under the former's pretense -- Donghyuck could tell. "I just felt the need to walk more; need to burn the miniscule weight I've been putting on, you know?" Renjun said, glancing at Donghyuck beside him, eyes telling of concern and apprehension to leave despite the joking manner he'd talked. So Donghyuck lets him in hopes of disproving the other's worries.  
  
The walk to Donghuck and Mark's apartment is quiet, the only sound rippling through the air other than the normal bustle of a city's night is of their shoes hitting the pavement. It isn't discomforting at the very least, rather a nice respite from the voices in his head that never stop to let him rest.  
  
As they maneuver around, Donghyuck takes his time to breathe, closing his eyes to feel the night's breeze seep through his skin like soft kisses melding with his cells. He does it like that until they reach the complex, Renjun sweetly smiling at him and holding his hand when they arrive at the gates. "Just remember to have courage, Hyuck -- always hold it tightly. You can't achieve certain accomplishments if you continue to fear the unknown." Renjun says, albeit cryptically, before squeezing his hand and bidding goodbye.  
  
"Bye, Jun. Thank you," Donghyuck mutters under his breath, watching the other's retreating back while he mulled over his words, letting letters mingle with his thoughts to form a cohesive conclusion. He still couldn't for his life know how to breach the vast distance between Mark and him, but Donghyuck -- with Renjun's advice and encouraging tone -- thinks he could do it, somehow.  
  
[ ⏮️ × ▶️ × (⏭️) ]  
  
Weeks pass with little to no eventful occurences with Mark, merely brushing of existences and glances which seemed to speak of nothing but simultaneously mean everything -- for Donghyuck, at least. But amidst the ever-present dull ache in Donghyuck's heart, he'd made sure to revisit his decisions and revise anything that would bear no tangible fruit of improvement.  
  
As much as he could, Donghyuck ate the right amount food for his meals no matter how full he felt with his body adjusted to his lessened consumption. He'd started tending to himself as well, caring for how he dressed and presented himself. It dawned on Donghyuck that the man on his mirror reflected all of what made him, essentially, a weaker person -- disabled from bouncing back by the chains of his inhibitions. That man, who viewed the world through half-lidded eyes, with sunken features casting a ghastly touch on his holistic self, is a person who Donghyuck never envisioned himself to become. Yet he had taken its shape, and he's changing it so he could be better.  
  
A sigh cuts through the air, somewhat sharp and immediately smothered to mere muffles. Donghyuck takes purchase on the mirror before him, slightly pushing before shuffling to his feet as he turns to see what occured. The view comes immediately, just after he'd gotten out of his and Mark's shared bathroom. It's of Mark crouched on his seat by the workspace beside his side of the room, a heap of paper by the table's corner and his laptop placed askew on the center.  
  
Mark had been coming home later the past few days, Donghyuck had observed. In addition, he'd only ever seen Mark lounge around for a couple of hours before exiting the premises. And Donghyuck concludes it must've been due to the overflowing amount of paper near him. His heart clenches at the sight before him, both from due pity and self-helplessness, the well-acquainted blackness pitting his stomach back to clawing his insides furiously.  
  
When the other sighs again, audibly strangled and choking on his spit, Donghyuck wills a deep inhale, internalizing courage to his utmost ability. His lip is caught between his teeth as he trudges across the room, the shaking of his hands all but hidden and the churning in his chest on levels uncharted. And his skin burns, especially when his fingers land on Mark's shoulder, his touch short and tentative but noticeable all the same.  
  
Everything freezes, Donghyuck feels like, as well as Mark, his shoulders perking and whole movement going rigid. It takes a while for anything to happen, and Donghyuck fears if he'd be repeatedly rejected. But, then, Mark twists his torso and looks at Donghyuck, setting aflame the bits of hope that had stayed dormant in his heart.  
  
Eyes to eyes, Donghyuck sucks for air in weak desperation, his veins pulsating from the rush of blood. "D-Do you want to -- uhmm -- have coffee or something?" he stutters out, pursing his lips to stave off the urge of squirming under Mark's questioning eyes, complete with wonder twinkling by the sides.  
  
Mark's lips open and close, then opens and closes again before he casts his eyes lower, perhaps on Donghyucks chest where it's only utter chaos. And Donghyuck chews on his lips, anticipating and eyes nervously wandering. "I'd like that," Mark says, only above a whisper.  
  
[ ⏮️ × ▶️ × (⏭️) ]  
  
"How have you been?" Donghyuck's voice surprisingly remains calm-sounding, words intact and said with smoothness, as he breaks the nascent silence between them over their dining table. He holds his mug loosely, his other hand tentatively darting to grab some of the cookies on the plate situated before him, Mark's free hand near and still as though a silent invitation. But Donghyuck relents, deeming it best not to get ahead of himself.  
  
"Busy -- everyday hustling. My instructors have really up'ed the ante with finals just down the corner," then he stops, eyes wandering before eventually making their way to Donghyuck's own, gaze curious and somewhat unreadable, "You?" he finishes, and Donghyuck notices the uncertainty in his tone.  
  
But he smiles nonetheless, a little something close to utmost joy traversing along his stomach, happy at how Mark still takes interest in his whereabouts; albeit it could be for formalities sake. He lets the time pass however, letting the question sit while an answer simmers on the bottom of his tongue, branching out to vibrate against warm afternoon air. "I'm fine —" he argues whether or not honesty would best fit his wants "— but not at the same time. Quite like you, busy but trying to do everything quickly as I can."  
  
They fall silent then, air singeing around them as like nauseating moisture on gym lockers, a little suffocating but nothing unbearable. Donghyuck watches the way Mark's eyes flit between his own and the platter of cookies between them, a hesitance in his brown irises, a contrast to his morning pallor and dark lashes.  
  
It takes a moment for anything else to happen, but when Mark did speak, Donghyuck's breath hitched, memories lunging his throat, and sweet possibility prickling his skin like fine needles. "You know, sometimes I find myself wondering if we ever would be okay." It's an honest thought, a sense of regret brimming the words Mark had spoken of, and it doesn't miss Donghyuck's heart, lodged deep at the center, and he feels it bleed and breathe through the cracks.  
  
"I know it's too soon, and we've only spoken now after such a long amount of time," Mark mutters, how small his voice was when he spoke making Donghyuck rethink whether or not he was ever meant to hear him. "I was confused, really confused about everything back then. And I don't think it was right for you to up and leave. We could've talked it out."  
  
The wooden surface of the table almost seemed to burn under Donghyuck's skin, crackling as ashes surfaced up, carried by air and heated pressure, all while his heart poured its contents atop the blazing fire. _It's too soon for this,_ Donghyuck thinks but he surrenders himself to the idea of honesty, running towards and grasping it in hope of remedying what has possibly been his worst mistake in the past.  
  
"I could not bring myself to stay. Not when I loved —" _I still do_ "— you in a way you couldn't pin on. I had kept it to myself, suffered by myself, as I imagined you as someone who's role you couldn't fulfill." _An extension of my soul, the half of my heart. The person who holds my love by his palm to care and to protect. The one who sees me eye to eye and knows me by heart. The man to be. The man for me._ Donghyuck breathes. "You couldn't be that man for me, Mark. So, I fled, scared to break whatever remained of us."  
  
Mark casts his eyes downward, edges of his lips turned down very lightly while he furrowed his brows, a look of concetration, of utter contemplation. And it seemed as if the world stopped moving; it seemed as though they were there, stuck in an infinite loop of a second, awkward and painful, raw and beautifully devastating. But Mark speaks, louder this time — a hint of uncertainty but the words' hold to be reckoned. "You ended up breaking us Donghyuck. Not your feelings. I would've moved with you."  
  
Donghyuck stops, his breath hitching as he mulled over Mark's words. Suddenly, the morning air seemed to cold for comfort. And Donghyuck finds himself coiling, knots in his stomach tangling in familiar fashion.  
  
"You were being unfair not only to yourself but also to me." Mark turns his eyes away to the window overlooking the outside, his voice burning through Donghyuck's ears. "I — I would've accepted you, Donghyuck. I would have adjusted to your feelings but you chose to run away as if I were some random hook-up," Mark says.  
  
_What? Adjust?_ Donghyuck thinks, confounded at the word that rolled off too easily from Mark's thin lips, mind whirring with the slightest tang of insult. But he ponders for a short while, knowing full well Mark wouldn't ever bear any ill intentions. However, it didn't make it hurt any less.  
  
Although Donghyuck reconsidered applying honesty, he knows it's something that would aid in the long run. He heaves a shaky breath, urging himself to calm the weak storm that had brewed over in his chest. "But I don't want you to adjust, Mark. This is my burden. I fell for you. And I don't want you to _adjust_ and see me as someone who likes you."  
  
It's a statement of truth — regardless of his feelings, how Mark sees and interacts with him should be based of his own emotions. Donghyuck's want and longing were his own to bear, and if Mark treated his fancy as something he feels he's obliged to return, then Donghyuck would never forgive himself. "You should never _adjust_ your feelings just to suit mine."  
  
Mark whips his head back — wordless, stiff. In his orbs swirls something deep, bordering a fiery red which seemed to reach for him. Donghyuck couldn't pin it, but with the way Mark's eyes flared, his mouth curving down, he could only assume it was anger. "Why, Donghyuck? I'm your best friend! I care for you!"  
  
"Exactly, Mark! You _are_ my _best friend_. You _do_ care for me," Donghyuck counters, his emotions tipping over, hot and rooted with his every fiber. Their eyes still meet halfway, gauging almost, but he remains steadfast however hard his heart is thumping. "You've shown me for years how much you do, made me see how much you do. But I don't want you to constantly pity me for my unrequited feelings. I _love_ you, Mark — and I don't want you to indulge me simply because I love you and you pity me." It slips — his truth slips — and Mark ever so gently flinches as the word said with a desperate lilt shoots through the space between them. But Donghyuck didn't care, his mind hazed with wanting Mark to _understand._  
  
"I'm only Donghyuck in your eyes. I'm only that annoyingly shy boy you grew up with and remained friends for almost two decades, Mark." Donghyuck pulls back just enough to sit taller, to assert some form of unecessary dominance, but still he coils to himself, arms snaking around his waist.  
  
If Donghyuck were to spare some of his honest thoughts, he'd say he wants nothing more but to run away. But he wouldn't — he shouldn't. He had been that man before, a man in-love blinded by the crippling fear of rejection and destruction. He'd succumbed once, but where did it get him?  
  
With warmth lining his eyes, Donghyuck builds his pedestal higher, stands up straighter while he rests a hand up his aching chest. "I see you in my dreams, Mark. I imagine you as the man under the sheets with me, entangling limbs with me, kissing with me, holding hands with me, going on dates with me when you probably only thought of me as the _best friend._ " It stings admitting something so tightly bound to his inhibitions, however Donghyuck thinks it should be; deems it is what's to be done so they could finally breathe again.  
  
"You are a man to me. But you probably only see me as the best man who'd stand close to you during your wedding, and that hurts, Mark." Donghyuck's heart bleeds, veiny fingers holding out for comfort.  
  
"Hyuck," Mark calls, but adds nothing. His face had calmed, the once burning traces of fire that kissed his features dearly now gone and reigned over by something that had become foreign to Donghyuck's eyes; aodration, affection — maybe _love?  
_  
The assumption tastes bitter in his tongue, so Donghyuck relents, a cruel laugh wiggling its way out of his controlled grasp. "I love you and I know how you don't feel the same. But you are my best friend before a man." He lets his tears falter silently, flow carelessy down his flushed skin, his heart still beating wildly inside the confines of his body.  
  
_I will choose friendship over love if it means you'll stay, Mark,_ Donghyuck finds himself wanting to say, but it doesn't come out of his mouth. Not when it would have been too pitiful, too desperate it might drive the other away despite his affirming words. _I don't want to lose him again._  
  
"I'm getting tired of constantly having to see you slip further away from me. I'm tired of seeing what little remained of us." A sob escapes Donghyuck, his back collapsing as he burrows closer to himself, wanting nothing more but to warm the coldness seeping into his skin. He goes back, his mind wandering back to the copious amount of hardships he had gone through to maintain this important constant in his life, of how he hurt because of the mistakes he'd made, and finally the fear that it might happen again.  
  
But the heat that encloses Donghyuck's frozen body is enough to pull him back to the present, is enough to keep him rooted in his foot as he grasps the man pressed onto him. As if in automation, Donghyuck slips his arms around Mark's chest, his head burrowing along the space between the other's neck and shoulder. He notes how Mark still smelled the same, how his body still felt the same, how everything in the touch felt the same — _like safety. Like home._  
  
He bawls harder, with streams cascading round his face, memorizing the much welcomed contact. "Mark," is the cry that he makes — a calling out of nothing but pure need and love.  
  
"I'm tired of constantly shying away from you too, Hyuck. I'm tired of keeping up a facade of nonchalance — of being a stranger under the same roof," Mark's words borders being a whisper, but Donghyuck hears it clearly despite the tightness of their embrace. "I want you back." And perhaps, Donghyuck wishes in earnest as the moment simmers, they will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK when I'm going to update but IT IS happening. I want to finish this journey no matter what!!!


End file.
